


Where The Heart Is

by galerian_ash



Category: Assassin's Creed, Assassin's Creed II - Fandom
Genre: First Time, Home, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memories, Unvoiced Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 05:36:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galerian_ash/pseuds/galerian_ash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reopened wounds, failing memories, and the possibility of a future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where The Heart Is

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://nothingtrue.livejournal.com/59146.html), 2010-06-14.

"You should be more careful. Anyone could get in here."

It was only pure luck that kept Leonardo from ruining the sketch. He slowly put the pencil down, and turned. With a little imagination — something he'd never lacked — he could just barely make out the shape of a man, hiding in the shadows of his workshop.

"Ezio! It's been too long, my friend."

"So it has. I'm sorry for that, too."

Leonardo frowned. It was rare enough that Ezio entered without politely knocking first, but the tone of his voice — and the words themselves — were further cause for alarm.

"Ezio? Is something wrong?"

A low chuckle emitted from the darkness, utterly devoid of genuine mirth. "Actually, for the first time in decades, everything has been righted."

Understanding dawned, and Leonardo slowly walked to Ezio's side. The way his friend stiffened and slightly drew back did not go unnoticed.

"The Spaniard...?"

"Defeated. It's all over now."

The smell of sweat, travel dust, and blood clung to Ezio. None of them were unusual, but the way he clutched his abdomen _was_.

Reflexively, Leonardo's hand shot out — only to be smacked away almost immediately.

"Leave it, it's nothing."

Despite the brief contact, Leonardo's fingers were coated with fresh blood, making it abundantly clear that the wound was far from 'nothing'. "Ezio, just let me-"

"No! I just... I rode too hard, that's all. I wanted to see you."

Something clicked in place. "Borgia did this to you? You came _here_ , first?"

Silence. Then, "I've bled on your floor. I'm sorry."

Leonardo reached out, carefully, slowly; advertising his intent in the same manner he would've done towards a skittish colt. Perhaps it worked, or perhaps Ezio was just too exhausted to fight him — either way, he practically collapsed into Leonardo's arms, turning the tentative touch into a hug.

Ezio clung to him like a drowning man would cling to a lifeline. Leonardo did his best to just hold on and offer solace in whatever way he could, heart aching all the while.

It wasn't long before a sticky wetness spread onto his stomach, prompting him to gently break the embrace. "Ezio," he said, "I need to take care of your wound. You're bleeding too much."

Ezio mumbled something unintelligible in reply, but allowed himself to be led upstairs.

And then there he was; on Leonardo's bed, getting undressed. The irony was like a particularly cruel joke, but he couldn't afford to give it any acknowledgement. Focusing on the wound, he noted that it was deep but didn't seem infected. Still, Ezio's skin was warm to the touch.

His hand moved to Ezio's forehead, trying to determine if he had a fever or not. Leonardo withdrew it after a few heartbeats, leaving behind a smear of blood and feeling no more certain than before. "I should go get a doctor."

"Don't," Ezio protested. "Just sew it up. I know you can."

Leonardo grit his teeth. "My patients aren't usually _alive_ , and I'd like to keep you this way."

He actually had the gall to laugh. But it was far better than the way he'd acted before, so Leonardo let it pass. He simply gathered the tools needed, and set to work.

He'd patched Ezio up a couple of times in the past. Back then, he'd always refused to look — keeping his eyes stubbornly averted. Now, he followed Leonardo's every move, tracking the needle's slow drag through his skin with a detached sort of fascination.

"What would you do," Ezio said after a while, "if everything you had lived for... came to an end? Your entire reason for being, over and done with."

Startled, he pierced the skin a bit too deep. Ezio didn't seem to notice.

The question was incomprehensible for Leonardo. There was so much he wanted to do with his life, so many things he still needed to accomplish. If he'd so been gifted with the lifespan of ten men, he doubted he could've done everything he yearned to.

But things were different for Ezio. And that, that he could understand.

"It'll take time to realize, but there's more to you and your life than revenge. You have friends and family who love you, and you're a good man. I believe your work is important, but if you decide to leave it behind you I _know_ you'll be more than capable of whatever you choose to do instead."

Ezio reached out, taking hold of Leonardo's slick fingers with his own. The dried blood on his hand flaked at the contact, and Leonardo gingerly shifted away from the wound before returning the clasp.

"Thank you, Leonardo. I would not trust such words from anyone else, but since it's _you_... I'll believe."

The words warmed Leonardo, filling him with a sense of pride that far surpassed the one he felt when achieving something in his work. It was a dangerous emotion, but one he was unable to quell.

He squeezed Ezio's hand before letting go of it, in order to finish treating the wound. His eyes drifted shut, and he remained silent for the rest of the treatment.

Leonardo thought him asleep, and — without conscious thought — reached up to brush away the strands of hair plastered to Ezio's face. He carded his fingers through the hair, untangling the mess as gently as he could.

"Shortly after leaving Rome, I saw a doctor."

The unexpected voice, clearly awake and _lucid_ , made Leonardo snatch his hand away as if he'd been burned.

A frown settled over Ezio's features. "No, don't stop."

Swallowing, Leonardo resumed his activities. "Ah, the doctor — was he the one who originally took care of your wound?" he prompted.

"Mm. He even told me I shouldn't keep riding, lest I wanted it to reopen. Perhaps I should've taken his advice."

Leonardo snorted. "Perhaps, indeed."

Ezio was quiet for a while, and it seemed like that had been the entirety of what he'd wanted to say. Then, "Leonardo?"

"Yes?"

"There was a boy with the doctor. I don't know if it was his assistant or his son, but... I looked at him, and all I could think of was Petruccio."

Leonardo's hand stilled.

"They were the same age, and I stared at the boy — wondering to myself what it was about him that reminded me of my little brother. And I realized that I truly didn't know. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't picture Petruccio."

Ezio's eyes opened, meeting Leonardo's gaze yet somehow seeing through him. "I can't remember what he looked like. I can't remember Petruccio."

There were no more tangles to work through; no more excuse to touch Ezio. Not caring, Leonardo simply ran his fingers through the hair. He hoped that was enough, for he had no words of comfort to give. Instinct told him Ezio wouldn't have wanted that, anyway.

Confirming his gut feeling, Ezio smiled slightly. "Thank you for listening. That's why I wanted to come home quickly; just to be able to tell you. Didn't know _why_ at the time, and in some ways I still don't know... but I — I'm okay now."

Leonardo dumbly watched as Ezio closed his eyes again, finally allowing sleep to claim him.

'Home,' Ezio had said.

_Home._

\----

"Leonardo. What are you doing?"

Ezio's voice was extremely measured, but its entrance into his own mutterings still came as a complete surprise. Leonardo banged his head in his hurry to get out of the cabinet he'd more or less crawled into.

Ezio was looking at him as if he'd gone mad — which was really quite hypocritical; considering that Ezio was standing on the stairs, leaning heavily against the balustrade, sword in hand, half-naked and swathed in gauze. All in all, he was far from the picture of sense and sanity.

"What are you doing up? Go back to bed!"

"I heard noises, and I thought..." Ezio trailed off, sighing. "No matter. It's morning, anyway."

"Go upstairs again. I want you to rest, for at least a day or two. Do you need help getting back into bed?" Leonardo did his utmost to make the question sound like the threat it truly was.

"No," Ezio mumbled.

Leonardo watched him go before turning back to the chaos that was his workshop. He'd spent the whole night turning it upside down, searching for something he knew to be there. The question was just _where_.

Years ago, Maria Auditore had commissioned him to paint her sons. She'd asked if he could do it without any actual sittings, as it was meant to be a surprise, and he had agreed, thinking it an interesting challenge.

He could still remember rushing back to his workshop, after some contrived plan of Maria's had enabled him to meet her sons. Ezio, in particular — he'd been so eager to capture the youth's vibrant charisma that he'd actually run home.

The painting had never gone beyond the sketch stage. And for once, it hadn't been due to his inability to finish things.

He wished it had been.

Frustrated, he grabbed hold of a dusty crate and wrenched it loose, using more force than necessary. The momentum made it slip from his fingers, and it fell to the ground with a loud crash.

No wonder he'd woken Ezio. Sighing, Leonardo bent down to pick up the broken pieces of the crate. However, its contents made him freeze.

Ezio stared up at him from the yellowed paper. Mischievous laughter seemed ready to break out on his face any minute, clashing somewhat with the mature strength that shone from his eyes. He remembered the piece; he'd drawn the majority of it after their first meeting. It'd been completed after Ezio had come to him a changed man, asking for help with repairing the hidden blade.

And if that drawing had been in the crate, then... Leonardo eagerly rifled through the rest of the contents, until he found what he'd been searching for.

Feeling oddly nervous, he made his way up the stairs.

Ezio was sitting up in the bed, leafing through a book with obvious disinterest. The poor tome got tossed aside as soon as he spotted Leonardo.

"Remember that I am gravely injured, my friend. So it'd be inhumane to ask me to help you clean up that disaster area," he grinned.

Leonardo laughed. "I'll try to keep that in mind."

Ezio's eyes drifted to the paper he held, and that was as good a cue as any. "Your mother once asked me to paint her sons. I never could finish it, but..." Leonardo trailed off, and simply handed the sketch to Ezio.

"I wasn't able to do any sittings," he hurried to add when Ezio's face grew blank. "So it might not be perfectly accurate, I'm afraid."

Still silence. Leonardo began to fear that he'd made a mistake, perhaps an irreparable one. "Forgive me," he began, but quieted when he saw Ezio reach out to trace Federico's and Petruccio's visages with a shaking finger.

Leonardo hesitated, uncertain if he should perhaps leave the room and give Ezio some privacy.

"May I keep this?" Ezio's voice was surprisingly steady, and Leonardo relaxed. There was no need to go; he could stay.

"Yes, of course. You didn't even have to ask."

"You know," he said, "I might have lost my brothers, but..." Ezio trailed off, looking at the sketch with narrowing eyes before carefully placing it on the bedside table.

He looked up, meeting Leonardo's eyes. "But somehow, in the process, I think I gained something equally important."

Leonardo nodded, glad that Ezio was able to find a positive aspect to his family's tragedy. "Yes," he eagerly agreed, "you've truly grown as a person; becoming a strong and capable leader — a man to truly _depend_ on."

Ezio chuckled, clearly amused. "For someone so clever, you're really slow."

"I beg your pardon?"

" _You._ I'm talking about you, Leonardo."

Leonardo opened his mouth only to shut it again, speechless.

A wry smile curled Ezio's lips. "Good, keep quiet. There's something I need to say."

Relieved that nothing more was required of him, Leonardo nodded.

"I might have a future, now. After everything began, I gave up on all that — I made no plans, had no dreams, was ready to die at any given moment... But there _was_ something I wanted, one thing I desperately wished to pursue."

Only Ezio's request kept Leonardo from talking, curiosity consuming him. There was a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't quite identify. Like an unlikely mix of dread and hope, perhaps? No, he couldn't pin it down.

"I didn't think it fair, however," Ezio continued. "I'd already involved you in a cause that wasn't originally yours; thrusting you into danger time and time again. I couldn't in good conscience make it even worse, no matter how badly I longed to."

"Wait — me?" Leonardo blurted.

With a fond look in his eyes, Ezio chuckled again. "Still slow, I see."

In actuality, Leonardo's mind was anything _but_ slow. It was frantically analyzing Ezio's words and behavior from every possible angle, doing its best to be analytical and impartial — an impossible feat, unfortunately. For who could stay composed when presented with the possibility that the unrequited love they'd harbored for years might, just _might_ , not be unrequited after all?

Leonardo couldn't, in any case. And so he just remained unresponsive, listening to the little voice inside that warned him not to get his hopes up.

Ezio's smile dimmed a bit, eyes flickering away as he seemed to falter. Regret flooded Leonardo, but he was given no time to act upon it — Ezio suddenly muttered a curse between clenched teeth, before reaching out and grabbing the front of Leonardo's tunic.

He was yanked down to Ezio's level, forcefully enough for him to lose his footing and land on the bed. Next thing he knew, a mouth collided with his.

The kiss was clumsy and painful in its obvious desperation — probably not up to Ezio's normal standards — but utterly welcome nonetheless. Leonardo wanted to show that, and returned it the best he could.

Ezio was the one to break the contact. He drew back, panting, though he retained his hold on Leonardo — as if afraid he'd bolt, if given the chance.

" _Now_ do you understand?" he asked. "I can't make it much clearer than that."

Elation making him bold, Leonardo smirked. "I'm slow, remember? I think you'll have to give it another try." That said, he reached up and gently tugged Ezio's hand away from his clothes, weaving their fingers together instead.

A soft smile curved Ezio's lips. "With pleasure," he whispered.


End file.
